Feral
by willow faerie
Summary: Pansy is doing some secret investigative work for Lucius Malfoy when she runs into Auror Harry Potter. Werewolf story


I would like to thank my betas Softobsidian74 and Joan Glover and my Brit picker Lady of Clunn.

Feral

The Ministry of Magic always did pick outlandish venues for their corporate Beltane parties. Pansy Parkinson gazed around the alabaster ballroom, amazed at the vines and blossoming blue flowers that entangled every post and column. Sage and creamy candles floated beneath vaulted ceilings, while little bits of magical pollen fell to the polished marble floor, like scatterings of cotton. A band of elves played "The Bonfire Dance" by The Weird Sisters. The funniest part was the live peacocks that strutted around the tiled pool, sometimes running and zigzagging through the crowd. The birds kept nipping at guests, eating the garland, and crapping on the floor, while the staff raced to spell away.

_Whose brilliant idea was that?_ Probably Penelope Clearwater's, she always did have a thing for birds.

Of course, Pansy hadn't come for the décor. She was on a wolf hunt. Lucius Malfoy had paid her a considerable amount of money to sniff out the werewolf that killed Fenrir Greyback. Malfoy was convinced a member of the Were pack in London had infiltrated the Ministry, and he wanted them exposed. Pansy, who had always been a rogue wolf and could care less about the London pack, was eager to make some money.

"You're not drinking, Panz?" Greg Goyle complained, waving his hand in front of her face to get her attention. His beefy frame was squeezed into a pin-striped suit that was one size too small for him. He looked like he was going to suffocate.

She glanced down at the blue champagne swirling in her crystal punch glass. A clump of magic pollen fell into her drink, and she fished it out with her long fingernail. "What's in this?"

Greg shrugged. "How the hell would I know? Drink it." He guzzled his own glass and pointed toward the atrium. "I got it from the champagne fountain."

Pansy glanced over at the fountain in question. Two stone, white swans were perched on top like lovebirds, and cerulean champagne cascaded into pools.

Sniffing her drink, Pansy could smell the sweet scent of blueberry, grape, and alcohol, but there was something else, something that didn't quite fit. It smelled like dried mustard weed dancing along the surface. Cocking her head, she thought about it, and realised what it was. The scent was exactly the same as Mort Amor, the date rape potion. Was Greg trying to drug her? Her fingers curled around her glass as her nails grew longer, darkening slightly.

Goyle always had been a tosser.

Greg just stood there, trying to look innocent, digging his hands into his pockets. He gave a pained smile. "Well…drink up," he insisted.

If only he knew that she could smell everything within a certain radius and pinpoint that smell, from the candle wax above, to the dust mites in the blue velvet drapes. She could even tell him what kinds of soap and shampoo he was using. He had a bit of semen on the inside of his trousers, so she figured he must have been jacking off in the bathroom. There was some kind of eczema rash on his elbow that he kept scratching, and the scent of dried skin clung to his fingernails. The most delicious smell, though, was from the tiny cut on his neck where he had nicked himself shaving. His blood smelled sweet and heavy. It had to be A positive, her favourite. If he drugged her, she'd probably just turn into her wolf and devour him. Greyback wouldn't have hesitated. Yet a part of her wondered how she could contemplate eating a former classmate without blinking an eye. Every day she was turning more feral. This worried her.

"No thanks," she said, dumping the drugged champagne into a potted plant. He was lucky she didn't dump it over his head. She handed him back the glass.

Goyle made a face. "Oh, come on, Panz, let's have a little fun. When was the last time you went out? You never go anywhere anymore." He reached out to touch her arm, but when his fingers made contact, she growled.

She couldn't help it; growling was a reflex. The wolf inside her was mean, and Goyle had now become her enemy. "Don't touch me."

Immediately he backed away, his eyes wide.

Pansy stiffened, trying to look as casual, smoothing out the gossamer ruffles on her Charleston style crimson skirt. She couldn't believe she just gave herself away like that. Here she had gone to all this trouble to look like a normal human being, and one growl gave her away. Well, almost gave her away. Goyle was kind of thick. But then again, maybe he'd needed a lesson.

Glaring at him, she allowed her third translucent eyelid to slide over her cornea, giving her eyes a red bulbous appearance. She looked ghastly this way, like something out of a nightmare, but that was what Goyle needed to see. Blinking once, she let her eyes go back to normal, and gave him a cold smile. Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "Greg, if you ever try to drug me or any other woman again, I'll rip your penis off and eat it."

Greg's face turned ashen, and his glass tilted over, spilling blue champagne on his shoe. He couldn't get out of the ballroom fast enough.

Pansy watched him go, her back stiff. She rather regretted her hasty decision now. Why did she have to threaten him? She was so bloody territorial. The wolf in her was a vicious being, but there was a sense of justice. Just the thought of Goyle trying to drug anyone made her want to rip his throat out.

Somewhat dejected now, she walked to the second floor and leaned over the marble railing watching the dancing below. As usual she felt detached, isolated. Lycanthropism had dehumanised her, made her different. She wasn't like other people anymore. Yet the woman inside her hadn't changed. She still wanted the dream of meeting a great guy and falling in love. The only problem was that now she might eat him in the middle of the night. Her fingers clenched.

A house elf walked past carrying a tray of cheese and hors d'œuvres. With lightning speed, Pansy nicked a cracker loaded with goose liver and plopped it in her mouth. She was always hungry now. Her metabolism burned like wildfire. She ate almost anything, rotted meat, spoiled milk, raw eggs: you name it. But she couldn't eat chocolate, her favourite treat. It was poisonous to her. Eyeing the little fudge cheesecakes on the tray, she turned away with a growl.

Down below, by the terrace, Pansy spotted gangly Percy Weasley and his equally gangly fiancée, Penelope Clearwater. Both of them were dressed in matching aqua outfits. They looked like an ice skating team.

And then there was Bill Weasley, talking to that insipid wife of his. Bill always bothered her because he smelled like a werewolf, but he wasn't. Musk and fur, musk and fur, there was no other scent like it. She'd catch a whiff in the air, and all the muscles in her body would clench. She hated to think what she'd do when she found the real thing. She hadn't been around another werewolf in three years.

That's because they were dangerous. Fenrir Greyback had once told her in gruesome detail what other werewolves would do to her if they found her. "It's all about territory," he explained. "You're either with the pack or against it. Everyone else is food."

But of course, Fenrir would have told her anything to stop her from trying to escape. The bastard had chained her up in his basement for days, feeding her pieces of bloody meat, coercing her into joining his pack. Greyback had infected her, changed her, and played games with her mind. A part of her was happy he was dead, and for that reason, Pansy had never tried to join a pack after she escaped. She despised other werewolves and conforming to their bloody pack rules.

Sitting down at the bar, Pansy ordered her favourite drink, a strawberry daiquiri. Around her, voices tickled in her ear, and she could discern them with clarity. Hermione Granger was arguing with Ron Weasley. Millicent Bulstrode invited Tom Nott back to her place. _Don't do it, Tom, Millicent is a succubus._

Suddenly she caught the scent, _musk and fur _and her heart started to race. A male werewolf was here!

The barmen spoke and set down her drink, but his voice was like a low hum in the back of her ear. Every nerve ending had sprung to life. Little hairs stood up on her arms. Her body trembled. Running her fingernails over the black lacquer counter, she scratched the surface, leaving claw mark crevices.

"Hey, be careful," the barman grumbled, pointing to the marks. "And that will be two galleons."

"Sorry," Pansy said, trying to act casual. Quickly she unzipped her sequin handbag and paid him. _Remain calm; don't panic. _Her fingers were trembling. She pulled out her compact and looked into the mirror dabbing on some lipstick, and smoothed a dark curl of hair behind her ear. Her pupils were so large that her eyes look black.

_I'll be okay. He can't smell me._ She had used Were-B-Gone, the scent removal spray. The sales clerk at Borgin and Burkes swore by it, saying that no werewolf could detect it. But what if he had been wrong? What if the were-male caught her scent too? He'd rip her to pieces! Or do something else.

Actually, it was the 'something else' that scared her. She had read somewhere that female werewolves could go into heat, just by being in the same room as a male werewolf. She had laughed when she read that, thinking the article was ridiculous. Greyback had never done anything to her except piss her off. But now her body was acting strangely. She tingled all over. Her nipples were hard as pebbles, and the muscles in her vaginal canal were clenched so tightly, she could barely sit right. A tiny bit of fluid cascaded down the inside of her thigh, and her eyes went wide. _I've got to get the hell out of here! _

Standing up, she grabbed the bar to steady herself. Blood rushed to her head. The other wolf's scent swirled in her sinuses like an intoxicating perfume. The room seemed to spin, and she was having trouble breathing. Holding onto the rail, she walked down the stairs in a smooth orderly fashion. _Just make it to the door, that's all I need to do._

But to her horror, she noticed she was starting to change too. Her fingernails were growing longer. Tiny hairs prickled underneath her skin, just waiting to come out. Then all of a sudden, the colours in the room faded to only blues and yellows, her crimson dress turned brown right before her eyes. She was now looking through her wolf eyes, which were colour-blind. _Fuck!_

Quickly, she dug her fingernails into her palm, trying to absorb the pain. She had read somewhere that pain sometimes could hinder lycanthropism, but it didn't seem to be working even though little drops of blood were beading on her fingers. People thought werewolves could change only during a full moon, but that wasn't necessarily true. She could turn anytime she wanted. She just told people it was a full moon because otherwise they were too wary of her. In actuality, the full moon just insured that she couldn't stop turning. Reflexively, she licked her palm, tasting the coppery blood, letting it settle on her tongue.

Making her way to the door, she turned the corner down a red-carpeted hallway.

That's when she saw him, the werewolf. There was no mistaking what he was. His whole stance and movement conveyed the wolf. Dressed in an elegant dinner jacket and cape, his dark bangs hung low, just brushing his eyebrows, which made his eyes seem brighter. With her wolf vision, his eyes appeared amber, but she knew from her memory they were green. Holding a glass of blue champagne, he glanced up at her.

A house elf tapped Pansy arm and almost gave her a heart attack. "Excuse me, miss, do you have a coat or a shawl?"

"No," she said numbly, staring across the room. She couldn't move her feet. They were glued to the floor. And she almost forgot to breathe.

The werewolf was not anyone she expected. Indeed, she didn't even recognise him at first without his glasses, but then when she did recognise him, she laughed. Lucius Malfoy would pay well to hear that Potter was a werewolf.

Harry Potter leaned over to kiss his wife, Ginny, and gently nuzzle her neck. His movement and stance had just enough carnal ferocity that she could tell he wanted to take her into the coatroom and ravage her. Ginny did not look thrilled with his intentions.

Pansy sucked in her breath, trying to organise her chaotic thoughts. How the hell did Potter turn into a lycanthrope? Did Remus Lupin bite him? Did Greyback bite him during the war? Was Potter the werewolf that killed Greyback? How long had he been hiding this secret? The Ministry couldn't possibly know what he was, or could they?

Harry lifted his nose just for a second, and then frowned, his eyes narrowing. His gaze pinpointed on her, and his body stiffened. The hair on his scalp stood up even more than it usually did.

Pansy's knees went weak.. _He can smell me._ She knew it. Damn that clerk at Borgin and Burkes. She should eat him for lying to her. Now in danger, she started to panic, for if there was one person Potter most likely despised, it was she.

With her keen hearing, Pansy heard Potter whisper in his wife's ear, "I'll be back." Then he began to make his way toward Pansy, sifting through the crowd like a predator. Pansy had no doubt what he intended. She had invaded his territory. Without waiting for him, she headed for the terrace, fighting the urge to bolt.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Potter waylaid by Granger. _Good, keep him distracted._

All werewolves played the "human game," pretending to be normal. Potter did it better than most. She played it too, picking up a glass of champagne, pretending to drink it. She slipped out the door, into the damp air, before he could see. Now outside, her hands couldn't stop shaking. The scent of roses and fresh cut grass wafted to her nostrils. The night was warm with a waxing moon, and crickets chirped around her.

Pansy pulled off her scarlet pumps first and tried to stuff them into her handbag. Unfortunately they were way too big. She would have to leave them. Damn it, these were her favourite shoes!

In a panic, she leapt over the rail, plopping onto the wet grass below. She was just in time, for, above her, she could hear the door opening, and the familiar aroma of fur and musk filled her senses. Hidden now behind a copse of trees and bushes, she edged back under the balcony. Behind her all the basement windows were dark.

He was right above her, his scent making her crazy.

"I know you're down there," he whispered.

Her body quivered, her feet sinking into the damp grass. She held her breath.

"Did you honestly think you could fool me with _Were-B-Gone_? That stuff is rubbish."

Pansy sighed in relief. Well at least he was talking to her, instead of ripping her to pieces. His choice to talk gave her time.

"You left your shoes." He picked them up, and it sounded as though he was sniffing them.

She gave a silent chuckle… typical werewolf.

"Are you going to talk to me?" His question sounded more like a command than an inquiry.

"I just want to leave," she said.

"Right, and I just want to talk."

"I won't tell anybody what you are."

"Oh right, and you wouldn't give me away to Voldemort either? But actually that's not the problem." Harry paused, a long sigh coming from his lips. "I know what you are. I know what you're capable of. And you're in my territory. What do you think I should do about you?"

"Does the Ministry know what you are?" Pansy asked, trying to keep him talking.

"Does it matter? Do you always answer every question with a question?" There was a growl in his voice that she somehow thought was sexy, despite being menacing.

Pansy unfastened her dress and let the gossamer fabric pool at her feet. If she could distract Potter for just a minute, she could take off her clothes. That way she could change without the encumbrance of clothing.

"Not always. How did you become a werewolf?"

"How do you think?" he chuckled. "More questions…we're certainly getting nowhere, aren't we?"

Peeling off her stockings, she stripped down to her camisole and knickers. Already her skin started to itch. She could hear his shoes tapping against the stone floor of the terrace, making her skin prickle. Unclipping her bra, she took off the rest of her clothes. To her annoyance, her nipples were still hard, and she was still aroused. _Bloody hell, how do you cool down a body that is now in heat? _She didn't think Harry was feeling it at all.

"I can't let you go just like that. You must know that. I have to at least thrash you first." Harry leaned over the railing and looked down at her from above. His eyes were two yellow orbs in the darkness. Seeing she was ready to change, he blinked.

"You can try." Pansy bolted across the lawn toward a cluster of trees. Never in her life had she wanted to change so fast into her wolf. Her fingers turned black and webbed together, her thumb twisted into an elongated dew claw. Hair bristled out of her skin like a thousand pin pricks, and her fingernails grew long, curling into claws. Bending over on all fours, her hands and feet came together, and she took off.

She knew Harry was behind her. She had heard him crashing down from the terrace, his growl ferocious. He hadn't completely stripped off his clothes, and they slowed him down, flapping against his flank. He yanked them off with his teeth.

Pansy continued to change, her muscles stretching and contorting, a tail spouting from her back. Her nose and jaw grew into a snout, causing a searing pain to shoot up her sinus cavities and her eyes watered. Her teeth grew into long fangs, hanging over her lip. Now her sense of smell was even stronger, and the scents of earth and pollen were everywhere, as was the smell of Harry racing through the trees.

She ran faster, the wind in her face, darting between bushes and roots, and jumping over rocks. Normally she would have loved this, running free under the moon on a summer night, but Harry scared her. _I must get away!_

The sound of paws thudding the leaves and crunching pine needles made her hair stand on end. He was getting closer, his scent encompassing her. He let out a howl that broke the night, ordering her to stop.

_To hell with that!_

Cutting through a field of tall grass, Pansy couldn't see in front of her because the blades whipped at her face, sprinkling wet droplets on her snout. Taking long leaps, she tried to jump above the grass, her strong legs carrying her high into the air. If she could only make it to the Muggle carriageway, she could lose Harry. She had done it before with Fenrir, weaving in and out of traffic, horns blasting everywhere. Especially at night, the lights could be very disorientating. From the smell of the petrol and the exhaust fumes, she knew she couldn't be far away. She just had to get past the lake, wherever that was, somewhere to her left. The field reeked of pond scum.

The wind blowing over the field made it seem alive. Padded feet and swishing grass thumped behind her.

Pansy ran faster. He was right behind her. How did he catch up with her so quickly?

Harry burst through the tall blades, all teeth and snarl. He made a dive for her leg and nipped her heels.

Pansy yelped, and snapped at him, her mouth now full of fur.

Harry ducked away, his movements a blur. Teeth ground into her hip, and a shooting pain went up her spine.

Pansy darted through some bushes, trying to get away. Strong jaws came down on her hock and dragged her to the ground, yanking her off her feet.

He jumped on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs.

Growling in panic, Pansy clawed at the grass and then at his flank, biting his shoulder. Damp fur and the taste of blood in her mouth.

Harry snarled and bit her hard, tearing her flesh. Rolling in the grass and the mud, he landed on top of her back, his claws digging into her flesh.

Pansy tried to buck him off, but he was stronger than she was, and his teeth dug into her neck.

With his breath hot against her throat, he bit her ear, the command plain and simple: _Stop fighting me!_

Pansy whimpered, a stinging pain rippling through her cartilage. But she also realised that he wasn't trying to kill her. He was just disciplining her, like a pup, ordering her to behave. This was a good sign. If he had wanted her dead, he'd just rip her belly out like she had seen Greyback do more than once. Is this what Harry meant by thrashing her?

Funny how that turned her on. She had always wanted an Alpha Wolf to dominate her, take her, make her his. Her body trembling, a flood washed over her, and her claws retracted. Her heart pounded in anticipation.

Harry's body started to relax. In her peripheral vision, she could see him, fearsome, all black with amber eyes and muscular limbs. Werewolves never did look quite like wolves. Their heads were too big, their bodies too long. They had paws that were flexible and could pick up objects with simian dexterity. Right now, his paws were holding her down, wrapped around both her front pasterns.

Bowing her head, she tucked her tail between her legs.

Harry licked her ear where he had bitten her and growled a low purr. Letting go of her throat, he sniffed her and continued to lick her, making his way down her sleek coat to her loin and croup.

Pansy didn't want to move. The hot moist tongue felt so good, sending shivers down her spine.

Reaching her ass, Harry's cold nose pressed against on her rosette, and he started to lick her there, slathering the tender nerve endings around her canal.

To her surprise, she was starting to change back, her black hair retracting, leaving a soft grey undercoat of fuzz that blew away in the wind. Her skin prickled from the cold now, and the wet grass stuck to her flesh. Pansy squirmed under his touch, hoping he would change too, a howl escaping her lips.

But he never did. Instead he just stiffened and cocked his head, a bit of saliva dripping on her ass from his mouth. His cock was hard, jetting out between his legs. He started to crawl back up her spine, his claws scratching her skin.

Pansy struggled beneath him; each scratch was like fire across her back. She nipped his paw with human teeth. Harry lifted her bottom and spread her legs. His mouth moved to her throat once more, and he nipped her, hissing in her ear, his voice barely audible, "Heel."

Pansy growled, thin rivulets of dampness streaming down her legs. Like hell she would heel! But while her mind was rebelling, her body obeyed. She was almost human again.

Harry was still part wolf. He mounted her, his soft fur silkily caressing her back. His teeth scraped the tender part of her throat, right by the jugular, and he slid his cock inside, the thick girth stretched her cunt, filling her up.

Pansy howled at the invasion, her eyelids fluttering. God, it felt good, almost too good. He was nothing like Greyback, who used to bite at her. Harry had a gentle side, his mouth nuzzling her neck. Holding her in place, he proceeded to fuck her, his claws digging into her hips.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, and she noticed he was changing, his hair retracting, his snout pushing back into his face. His claws became hands with very long fingernails that wrapped around her hair.

"I think I like you better as a wolf," she mused.

"You want me to change back?" he threatened, bending down to lick her mouth. The action was so intimate. She was startled. Downy grey hair floated around them, and she continued to watch him, her body writhing with each thrust.

Turning her head, she could see he was almost changed back now, except for the heavy muscle tissue around his arm. His eyes were still wolf eyes, big and amber, with irises that took up almost the whole sockets reflecting in the darkness. Blood dripped down his chin from where she had bit him, and it looked black in the moonlight.

Reaching out, she lapped up a drop with her tongue, the salty taste making her mouth water, the heavy scent of wolf making her body quiver.

"Don't distract me," he ordered, grabbing her by the hair, yanking her head back. With one quick thrust, he started fucking her harder, his pelvis slamming into her arse. His grip was rough, his sharp nails scratching her thigh and buttock, making her skin burn.

Pansy lapped in the pain, finding it only intensified her pleasure. "Too intense," she murmured breathlessly, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. But with a sharp slap, he held her in place.

Her vision went blurry, and pulsing vibrations rippled through her body. She stiffened, tiny little shocks dancing over her skin. The climax exploded in her skull before she was ready for it, millions of flickers rippling over her body. She let out a low cry.

Harry went rigid behind her, grabbing her hips. He thrust two more times inside her, burying his cock deep. He let out a howl, and his fingernails pierced her flesh. Then he bit her, marking her, and they collapsed on the grass, out of breath.

For a moment they just laid there in silence, both of them naked and human.

Pansy glanced out at the moon. After every change, a tiny piece of her always wanted to linger and run through the trees.

Harry licked the blood from her hip, his tongue stinging, and then moved down between her thighs, lapping the fluid still seeping from her cunt.

Pansy was boneless, trying to think. She couldn't believe what just happened.

"So much for thrashing you," he said breathlessly, "I should have just killed you," but he didn't mean it. His touch was gentle, his voice soft. His eyes were green now, the last remnant of their wolfishness gone.

Pansy thought he looked beautiful. "I'm not a threat to you," she whispered, wiping the wet grass and dirt from his face.

"Of course you are. You're a werewolf." Harry sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyebrows furrowed.

Pansy wanted to wrap her arms around him, but now he seemed so cold, his body stiff. _So much for cuddling afterwards_.

"Professor Lupin lied to me," Harry said. His eyes were distant as if thinking out loud. "He said he couldn't remember what happened to him when he turned into a werewolf, but that's not really how it works. I know exactly what happens when I change. The problem is, when I've turned, I don't really think like a human anymore. I think like a wolf. That's why we're dangerous. We don't care about human laws and compassion. It's a struggle just to hang on to your humanity. What if someday we don't change back?"

Pansy sat up and reached out to touch his hand and then stopped, noting the dirty fingernails. They were just like her own. "Greyback loved being the wolf. He wanted to change permanently." she said thoughtfully.

"That's because he was a miserable human being," Harry snapped, pulling away, hiding his nails. He turned to face her. "You were part of his pack, weren't you? Are you looking for others to latch onto now since Greyback is dead?"

The way he said it was like she wasn't good enough for his pack. _Bastard!_ "I don't want to join the London pack."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Then I want you gone, out of here. You will leave London. I don't care where you go or what you do, but you will go, and you will tell no one who I am. I'm going to forget what happened between us."

Pansy bristled. "And if I don't?"

Harry frowned. "Don't start with me. If I have to come pack your bags and throw your arse on the bloody Knight Bus I will. You know the rules."

Yes, she knew the rules. Greyback had driven them into her with his sharp claws. Any rogue wolf in another pack's territory was always beaten and driven off…or killed, both grim choices. She knew she should feel grateful to Harry, because he was actually protecting her from his own pack by letting her go. But the wolf inside her was still furious. "Fuck you," she growled, moving to stand up. "There's a reason I'm not in a pack, Potter, and it's because I'm tired of arsehole Alpha males telling me what to do!"

Harry grabbed her by the hips and dragged her back down to sit next to him. Then he took her chin between his thumb and his forefinger and forced her to look at him. "You must leave. London is our territory!"

Greyback used to grab her chin that way. Furious, she bit down on his hand, her top canine teeth puncturing his skin.

Harry snarled and pulled back his bleeding hand. Growling, he knocked her on her back and rolled over on top of her, pinning her to the ground. His face was inches from hers, his hot breath on her cheek. All his muscles were tightly wound, as if he were about to change. "You forget: I don't think like a human anymore. You bite me, I'll bite you back."

Brutally he kissed her, his hands pinning her to the ground. Pansy struggled in his arms, gasping for breath. She could feel him grow hard between her legs, and her body started tingling with excitement. He bit her bottom lip.

The pain seared up her lip. Pansy cried out, warm blood trickling down her chin. "Get off me!"

Harry let her go and stood up, staring back towards the hotel. His cock was still partially aroused, his naked body stiff. "You're a beautiful she-wolf, Pansy. There's no doubt about it. But you've got to leave. Don't make me tell you again."

Still sitting in the grass, Pansy watched him go. A part of her wanted to attack him and rip out his guts. Another part wanted to cry. She let out a wolfish howl that split the night.

Harry didn't look back, which hurt.

Slowly she stood up and started heading back to get her clothes. She wasn't about to leave her favourite shoes. She wasn't about to leave London, either. Fuck Harry's pack rules. If he wanted her out, he was going to have to drive her out!


End file.
